A resident in the building complex we live in has a dog. Make that has one of those dogs which cant make up its mind whether it is a dog or an overgrown rodent. And is black in colour too. The primary pastime of this resident is to send this overgrown rodent down with his Man Friday to the garden and let it loose amongst the yelping children, and stand up in his balcony to watch the fun.
Chihuahua. I think. Is the name for the kind of doggie breed this particular type belongs to. After much agile leaping around in the course of my evening walk to avoid the dratted dog racing around the jogging track and grass like a rodent on steroids, being chased by a Star Wars army of clones kind of army of robotic cats, I finally lost the little patience I seem to possess these days. “Keep the dog on a leash,” I yelled at Man Friday, who was gossiping long and lovingly into his phone, which if he had shoved any closer to his ear, would have needed a surgeon and an operating table for extrication.
Of course, he didnt hear me yelling. I wished I could have uprooted a small tree to chase said dog off the jogging track, (all ye dog lovers, dont send in hate mail now, I lived with a dog in the house for close on 13 years, and cremated him myself), or risk it being stepped and trampled on by army of evening walkers and ipod earplugged joggers, and manic kids.
Finally, my waving and gesticulations came to his attention. Albeit slowly. He gave me the “Hey, you talkin to me,” kinda one eyebrow raised look. It also helped that all 60 plus kilos of me were parked plop in front of him and I was one second away from extricating his mobile device on prepaid talktime from his ear and depositing it in the undergrowth.
“Kutte ko pakadke rakho,” I said in the kind of slow tone one uses when one is not sure one is talking to a person who is assimilating what one is saying. “Kyon?” asked Man Friday back, in what I thought was A Very Rude Tone.
I explained to him that the dog might get injured since people were walking around and the children were running across. He looked at me and smiled. A Very Nasty Smile that immediately qualified him for incarceration at any facility worth its tranquilisers. “Aap dariye mat. Yeh kaatega nahin.”